Love Is a Wild Card (You x Joker)
by BunnyMermaid
Summary: A series of one-shots about you and The Joker.
1. Blood

**Title** : Love Is a Wild Card

 **Summary** : A series of one-shots about you and The Joker.

 **Notes** : I realized that I had seen Reader/Character fics for almost any character you can think of but The Joker. I am sure there must be some out there, but I decided to take a risk and try my hand at writing one. Please review! Btw, Y/N means "your name".

 **Disclaimer** : I own nothing related to _The Dark Knight_. This is just for fun.

Your dreams are stark as of late. There are towering gray buildings, clouds of black smoke and little else. You usually see the same bleak colors every night, but sometimes, like tonight, there is also bright, vivid red.

It's not your blood you see on the dirty sidewalks of Gotham but his. It's spills out into the streets and is washed down the vents. The cheers from the crowds are deafening. It feels like the whole city is celebrating while you sink to the ground and try desperately to breath through your sobs. Nobody notices you as they continue to yell in victory.

"Hi ya, princess". His voice breaks you out of your nightmare. You raise up and can just barely make out his painted face in the moonlight. He sits in the chair across from you, his right hand pressed to a wound in his left shoulder. You turn on the light and see the blood coating his gloved hand.

You feel like you have become an expert at patching people up. Well, patching _him_ up. After you help him remove his vest and shirt, you begin to realize that your well stocked first aide kit might have met its match. The gash across his shoulder is deep and the blood is flowing steadily. It will require stitches. "I don't think I can do this", you say. The smell of blood is starting to make you feel sick. He rolls his eyes at your concern. "Oh, sure," he says nasally. "I'll just walk right into Gotham General and demand to see their best doctor". He nods at the medical kit on the bed. "Come on, Y/N, you of all people should know I can take a little pain". His smirk encourage you and you know you have to at least try.

You get out the thread and needle that you hoped you'd never have to use and silently beg your hands not to tremble. You have no idea if the thread is even strong enough. It had been his idea to to put those items in the kit. You had told him at the time that you'd never be able to stitch skin, but he had only laughed and motioned to the scars on his face, saying "Pretty sure you could do a better job than this, doll". You hear him take a sharp breath as you begin to sew the wound together but then silence for the rest of the procedure. You don't ask how got hurt because you have learned that he'll rarely ever give you an answer, choosing instead to make a joke. You used to think he was ashamed that sometimes even he, the terrifying Joker, got injured in the midst of causing chaos, but now you think it's because the less details you know about his activities the safer you will be.

You rinse his blood off your hands, watching it flow down the drain, and flinch at the memory of your dream. You return to find him reclining shirtless on the bed. He inspects the gauze you taped over the stitched wound to keep it from getting infected. "You do good work, Y/N. Ever consider taking it up professionally?" His laugh is loud in the quiet room. You can tell he feels okay and the tension in your body eases. He pats the place next to him in invitation and you quickly accept.

You know he'll be gone in the morning and it makes you press yourself tighter into his embrace. He'll lay beside you until you has rested regained his strength and then slip out the same window he came in through. You'll wake to a cryptic note like the many others you keep in a box in the back of your closet. It will hint at when you will see him again, which could be tomorrow or 3 nights from now. You don't want to go to sleep. You want to lay like this with him, silent and connected, listening to his heart beat. You want to stay awake because out here you can stop his bleeding.


	2. Knife

Notes: Thank you so much to all who reviewed and are following this story! I am so happy you are enjoying it. Big thank yous to PasoFinoLovrr, AidansQueen, and Ella! Please let me know in the reviews if you have any ideas for upcoming one-shots and I'll be glad to consider them. :)

You watch him pace the length of the room and grumble to himself. You can't quite make out his words but you're fairly certain they are of a violent nature.

"Are you sure you didn't see his face?", he asks again. "Any details at all?" The urge to spill blood is as strong as it's ever been but there's something unfamiliar in it this time. For the first time his rage is actually personal.

You have to fight the small smile that wants to form. All day you had told yourself that everything would be fine as soon as he was here and you were right. All your fear at the man who had hurt vanished as soon as you told the Joker what happened and saw the wheels in his mind begin to turn. "No, I am sure", you say, adjusting your sitting position as your back still hurts from hitting the ground. "He grabbed my purse from behind and then punched me as soon as I turned around. I was on the ground when he ran."

Joker returns to speaking to himself in mumbled words. You wish you could give him some information but it's all a blur. You inwardly curse yourself for taking a different route home and not calling a taxi. How many times had he warned you that he wasn't the only psycho prowling the streets of Gotham? You are torn from your thoughts when he approaches you and takes off his gloves. For a brief moment you're afraid he's going to slap you for being careless with your safety. Then you feel his bare fingertips lightly trace the large bruise over your left eye.

They hurt something of _his_. The very thought makes his blood boil. He thinks of all the times you two had laid in bed and he'd traced the forming bruises on your hips. A sense of pride would flow through him at the seeing the evidence of his passion. It excited him to think that for days you would be reminded of the feel of his hands gripping you as he roughly showed that you belonged to him. Now there was a mark on you that some random person had inflicted and then left you to suffer. He needed a name for this person. He needed to know something **now**.

His cell phone rings and he quickly answers. Few words are exchanged but the wide smile forming on the Joker's face tells you all you need to know. He clicks the phone off and sits down in front of you. His entire demeanor has suddenly changed and he seems strangely at ease. "Turns out my boys aren't as dumb as they look. They found a name for the purse snatcher known to, uh, _work_ , in that neighborhood. His signatures include punching his victim to the ground and then showing up late at night to the address he finds on their identification. I guess purse snatching just doesn't pay the bills like it used to and he has to moonlight as a burglar." Your eyes widen at the man who hurt knowing where you live. You assumed he grabbed the cash and threw the purse off a bridge. "He's coming here?", you ask, your voice betraying you as you try to sound calm.

Joker leans back and grabs one of his many knives from his pockets, flicking it open and carefully observing the shiny, sharp point. "Oh yes", he answers casually, "he'll probably arrive in the next few hours or so. Do me a favor, princess, okay? Open that bedroom window halfway. Let's make it easy on the fellow. He's already in for such a nasty surprise when he arrives that it seems a shame to make him struggle with a locked door too." A fit of giggles overtakes the Joker and he laughs hysterically at thought of what's to come.

You lean back and smile at the man across from you. You don't have to fear the monsters that roam the streets when you have one of your own.


End file.
